Your Greatest Gift to Me
by DominusPisces
Summary: Harley reflects on the latest time she turned to Poison Ivy for sanctuary after a 'misunderstanding' involving The Joker and what the red haired woman gave up for Harley's safety. Rated T For mature themes , domestic violence, death
1. Chp 1: Cartwheels

**AN:) Okay I don't own any of the characters in this story and make no money off of it. Now.. On to the main event. Rated T for mature themes and char death.**

**Your Greatest Gift to Me:**

**Chapter 1: Cartwheels**

She sacrificed the most important thing in the world to her for me tonight. It was the symbol of everything she struggled for, and even though she would have killed for it and many other things (I know I've seen her!) I am pretty sure that this was one of the few things she might have **_died_** to protect. Hell, she spared Bats to keep the stupid thing safe and he's the **_Goddamned Batman_** for Christ's sake! Despite everything, it's life was considered a fair price for mine.

My mind was doing cartwheels faster than even my limber joints ever could. I was quiet, lost in thought the whole trip back to the asylum and it worried the guards. They were used to bubbly. They were used to boisterous. They were used to immature, temper-tantrum throwing. Hell they were used to deranged threats and fan-girl groupie worship. What they were never used to from me, was brooding. Not when the subject of my love was physically safe at least. Even though I gave no struggle or trouble while they took me to my 'room' I have never seen them so timid around me, and they have seen me come in covered in several someones' blood before.

Sleep refused to come. I felt too wound up, like I wasn't grounded right to properly sleep. My busy mind distracted itself a moment by picturing a two pronged socket on the pillow and a three pronged plug in my head. I forced a snicker and a tight lipped smile determined to improve my mood through humor by sheer willpower. It was a failed attempt, like many things in my life I just wasn't good enough. Instead I simply stalked my cell like an angry tiger. No... angry wasn't right. I was… hungry? Yes hungry fit my mood. My mind lacked an answer that made sense to me. My question lacked sustenance and demanded to be satiated.

I paced my cell before I noticed one of the few pictures I have taped to my wall that differed from the usual person that was plastered on my three walls. (It **_was_** four walls until they threatened my leisure activities if I didn't stop covering the glass, observation wall. The BASTARDS, what was so wrong with being surrounded by the most handsome face in the world?) I took it off the wall and studied it. There we were, one of the few times we escaped together. We stole one of the guards phone and it had a camera and we decided to take a picture the second we got off the island. Actually it was my idea, but Red was nice enough to go along with it. The selfie was a picture of me, Red and her rose bush. The words 'Momma, Baby and Aunty-Harley' were written in marker across the print out.

I stared at the 'family photo' of the two (three?) of us. My smile so big it compensated for the demurred 'I'm only doing this for you.' Smile Pammy was sporting. My eyes fell to the rose bush and felt a pain in my chest. Don't get me wrong. I thought the plant was pretty and smelled nice, but I know it was just a stupid plant. I also know what the silly thing meant to Red.

My eyes closed, and the smell of acid, smoke and the sound of manic laughter and the wail heartache assaulted me all at once as my frantic mind tried to sort the memories into a coherent memory…


	2. Chp 2: Planted in Twice Dead Soil

**Chapter 2: Planted in Twice Dead Soil**

"R…Red?" My voice stuttered into the burn phone. I knew she would never speak first out of fear of giving away her number to anyone.

"Harley…is that you?" I heard Pammy's voice husk with concern. "What's wrong? Never mind. What did he do and where are you?" I could hear the anger in her words and I flinched even though I knew who the harshness in her voice was for. I winced at the movement since my body ached all over.

"I messed up again Red." I heard her huff and knew she was going to tell me I didn't do anything wrong, but before she could go into a lecture I beat her to the punch. "I'm in crime alley by the old movie house." I sniffed as holding the phone to my ear was causing my arm to hurt. "It hurts real bad Red. I think he… I think I'm really hurt this time."

Instantly I could feel the energy on her end turn from anger to a sorta panicky worried. "Stay put. I'll be right there." I sniffled an okay and hung up.

I hated this feeling, feeling helpless, but here I was, joints too swollen to walk for more than a few feet, muscles too bruised to support my lithe form and eyes, lip and nose too broken and puffy to rely on any sense save touch and hearing. Arms clutching myself, I let out a ragged agonized breath as my bruised arms screamed less than my screaming ribs. I have never been beaten this badly before. Sure there was that time My Puddin' threw me out the window, but the fall hurt me. I'm sure Mister J. didn't realize how far up we were. I don't know if I screwed up enough to be beaten this bad, but I should have known better than to tell Puddin' that one of his jokes was a bit stale.

It wasn't his fault. I should have kept my mouth shut, but I was just trying to help him. I mean, the giggle gas just seemed to be old material. I just suggested to him to change up his calling card to keep things fresh. Maybe change the concoction to make them cry. "You Know Mistah' J.? Like them old crying clowns they did on black felt?"

"Fresh material? **Fresh Material!?**" He shouted at me. He slapped me so hard across the face that my grease paint came off and my suddenly rosy cheek peeked through the marred white covering. I tried blubbering out an apology, but my innocent comment mocked him to his core as he picked up one of his brick stuffed chickens and beat me with it between kicks. "And it's black velvet you stupid useless excuse for a henchwoman!" He kept springing insult after insult on me. To be honest my cries were loud enough to block them out after that, and I was too busy curled into a ball with my hands protecting my neck from the strikes and kicks.

After he threw me out and told never to come back I limped along while the numbness allowed me to soldier forward before it faded and the pain finally grounded me. After I called Red I wondered if I could have said it differently, instead of fucking up… like I always do.

I tried to think of it, but I just hurt too fucking much to do anything but selfishly wallow in my pain and wait for Red to come find me. I couldn't even muster the guilt for hurting my poor Puddin's feelings. "I hope her new hideout is close…" I whimper, barely coherent sounding through my swollen nose and busted lip. I whined as I loll my head against the wall as the overloaded tendons in my neck stretched.

Sometime later I heard a car slow in the distance and the sound of a door opening. Suddenly I heard my phone going off and I jumped slightly in surprise and sucked air like a beached fish at the pain. I heard rushing foot steps towards me and relaxed a little as I saw flashes of red flowing out of the trench coat cloaked figure stepping into the street light I was hiding just out of reach of. "He.. here Red" I weakly sputtered.

She shown a flash light in my direction and even through my blurred vision I saw her beautiful face contort into horror at my appearance. Her green eyes were wide, her hand came up to the 'O' that her full lips formed. "Oh Harley…"

"Don't like the new look?" My voice hoarse, I tried to smile but gave up when Pammy wrinkled her nose at what I was sure was the nasty look of my swollen lips trying to move. I gave up and just slumped as Poison Ivy, one of the most lethal women in Gotham rushed over to me as I slumped over saying it was going to be okay.


	3. Chp 3: Transplanting a Tender Sapling

**Chapter 3: Transplanting a Tender Sapling**

I came to, some point later. I hurt all over, my head spun. I could hear voices but they were fuzzy sounding. I tried to open my eyes, but they protested. What little I could open them was regretted the moment light hit them. Quickly closing them I tried to focus on the voices I heard.

"She needs to go to the hospital." The voice, not unkind, but clearly angry and, well… old sounding sounded determined enough to believe. "She needs proper treatment."

"She isn't going to a hospital just to be shipped back to the loony bin so that psycho can break her out later and start this all over." A very familiar voice husked impatiently. "Do your job. Tell me what's wrong with her and what she needs and you can go back to your life, saving junkies!"

"I'm trying to, but I keep telling you, I don't have everything she needs." Old Woman continued on. "She obviously has a concussion. She needs a CT scan and an MRI to see if she's bleeding internally."

Whoever this poor bitch was, she seemed pretty banged up. I thought through my head ache. I remember thinking they should stop arguing so they could take her to the ER.

Husky Voice spoke up again, and the fuzziness in my ears cleared enough to recognize it as Red! "You have a lab right here! You can do all that right now." She still sounded angry, but I heard the waiver in her determination.

"We have an x-ray machine, and machines for blood work and to test infections." Old Woman countered. "I can already tell you with her bruising she has to have at least one cracked rib and no broken limbs. Her skull has no obvious dents or cracks, but I can't rule out hairline fractures." When Red didn't comment the other woman continued while I just listened to the laundry list of things wrong with this girl. What the hello kitty happened to this person? "I can see you care for her and think you are protecting her, but it does her no good if she dies from a bleed in her head, or abdomen. Help me to help her." The more Old Woman talked, the more I thought I **_might_** know her from somewhere.

Something didn't add up. As much as I loved Pammy she **_hated_** people. At best she thought some were useful. I'm the only person she **_ever_** seemed to like as much as her plants and the only one she ever tried to do anything for out of kindness. Clearly this woman must be an idiot if she thinks Red gave a petunia's ass about this girl. Unless, no it couldn't be? The only explanation that made sense, as my mind finished the slow cartwheel it was doing was that 'I' was the poor bitch they were talking about.

"No Hospital!" I yelled as my eyes snapped open from the adrenaline I suddenly felt. My hand went to shield my eyes from the light and gave me a protest of aching pain. "Owwwww!" I whined.

"Thank God! Harley, you're awake!" I heard Red say with obvious relief.

"Miss Quinzel." The woman spoke hurriedly, concern already replacing her frustration from her conversation at Red. "You need to take it easy."

Wherever they were before I don't know, but they were both by my side on opposite ends of the bed. I was squinting horribly to keep the light out of my eyes, so all I could make out were their shapes. "It's too bright… can you kill the lights a little Doc?"

A few steps and a few clicks later the light went down allot. "There… is that better?" I opened my eyes to see that half the lights were turned off to give enough light to see and turn the roar in my head to a pissed grumble. I quickly turned to see Red at my right like a guardian angel as she smiled down to me with full red lips. I frowned when I saw the worry in her green eyes though, feeling guilty.

The gears in the back of my mind started rattling off my symptoms: photophobia yes, pain yeppers, nausea check-o-rony, drowsiness? Yes, I was fighting to stay awake now that I relaxed a tiny bit seeing that Red was protecting me. Difficulty breathing with a sharp pain when my chest expanded to the most I could manage, along with tremendously painful while still structurally functional limbs.

I might be known to most as Harley Quinn in Gotham, but I still had all my education when I was still Doctor Harleen Quinzel. I couldn't find any fault in the Doc's call. Concussion, broken rib/s and possibly hair-lined arms, legs and/or skull all seemed dead on. The most logical and sensible thing to do was to go to the hospital for tests to determine the extent of any soft tissue damage and check for internal bleeding, which could potentially kill me in hours or, Hell, even minutes.

"C'mon Red Let's go." I said, and grabbed her hand I sat up painfully and slid off the bed and wobbled leaning onto Red for support. I was crazy not stupid. Despite the protests from Old Woman and the voice of 'reason' in my head I wasn't going to get busted by the cops while doctors squeezed a barium smoothie down my throat and up my ass. I looked around. We were in a clinic of some sort. It was closed and empty 'cept for the three of us. It looked like a clinic you gave blood at. Not much privacy all the beds were lined up in the open with cloth dividers on tracks. There was a wall with a space that looked like it led to an admissions area, and some doors in the back that led to the aforementioned labs and maybe some more private rooms for patients that needed a little more privacy than simply detoxing.

I cocked my head to the side and winced, then blinked in recognition. I knew this place. Memories of three summers volunteering here for service hours came to me. I turned to the Doc that Red took hostage to treat me and squinted my bruised eyes. "Um... Doctor Leslie Thompkins?"


End file.
